


I don't know

by johnllauren



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, everything is fine and my children are happy and in love, fuck mofftiss, i dont care about anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:04:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9350168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: “So what do we do?” John asks.They’re sitting, together, wrapped in shock blankets, on damp stones. Their shoulders - with the added padding from the blankets - are just barely touching. John’s arms are wrapped around himself in an effort to keep himself from shaking. Sherlock is staring at the ground in an effort to keep himself from crying.“I don’t know.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> pls forgive me for any errors its the middle of the night and i have so many feelings after TFP i just needed to,, write this

“So what do we do?” John asks.

They’re sitting, together, wrapped in shock blankets, on damp stones. Their shoulders - with the added padding from the blankets - are just barely touching. John’s arms are wrapped around himself in an effort to keep himself from shaking. Sherlock is staring at the ground in an effort to keep himself from crying. 

“About what?” Sherlock’s voice is void of all feeling yet, in some way, it contains the most emotion John’s ever heard.

John unwraps his arms from around himself to gesture vaguely. “All of this. My wife is dead, I have a child to take care of, you just found out that you have a sister who _killed_ your dog who wasn’t a dog, but was instead your _brother_ and best friend.” 

Sherlock squeezes his eyes shut. Lestrade brings them both tea. 

“Sherlock?” John’s voice is tentative. 

He opens his eyes. “I don’t know.”

_But you’re Sherlock Holmes, you’ve got to know_ , John wants to say. He misses those days - the days where Sherlock could walk into a room and tell exactly what was up without anyone saying anything. Then again, he can’t complain about this Sherlock, the one who isn’t afraid to show emotions anymore. So he says nothing. 

Sherlock sighs. “ _I don’t know._ ” He sounds disbelieving.

John looks over to him. “That’s okay.” He reassures.

The other man looks confused. 

“It’s okay to not know things.” John tells him. “We can figure it out together.”

Sherlock nods, after a few seconds. “That was… the one thing I was sure of.” 

“What was?” 

“You.” Sherlock tears his gaze away from the ground and looks up at John. There are unshed tears in his eyes, and it looks like he’s in the process of biting them back. 

John is confused. “What?”

“I always… I always knew you’d be here. Even when… when I died. You were still here.” Sherlock says. 

John nods. “Right. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, yeah? Partners in crime solving?” 

Sherlock exhales. “No, no, it’s you, it’s always been you, it’s never anybody else but you.” 

“What?” 

Sherlock shakes his head - John is so good at understanding him now. He can’t be so dense as to not be able to see what he’s getting at here. “John. Don’t you see? There’s a reason - there’s a reason for all of this. Why I immediately chose you over Mycroft. Why you stayed in the room when we discussed family matters. Why I held you, the other night. Why I started using again and why I agreed to be the godfather and the best man and everything before that.” 

“Oh,” John’s response is small. He sounds surprised, and when he looks back up at Sherlock his eyes are wide with surprise and something else that Sherlock doesn’t feel equipped to place.

“Me too.” He blurts. “Yeah, me too - since always.” 

_Since always_. Sherlock doesn’t even try to correct his statement. 

They’re both silent for a while after that, staring directly into each other’s eyes, like nothing in the world would make a difference. 

John makes the first move. “Can I?” He asks, looking down at Sherlock’s lips for barely a fraction of a second before flicking his gaze back up to meet the other’s again. Tentative.

Sherlock just barely nods. 

John moves to place a hand behind Sherlock’s neck and pulls their faces together. It doesn’t take long at all for Sherlock to kiss back, and then he’s pulling John as close to himself as possible. _Fuck, John is cold, the water must’ve been freezing,_ but Sherlock can’t bring himself to care. They’re in the midst of a moment that everything has been building up to, everything from the moment they met. And it feels damn fucking good. 

When they do break apart, just for a moment to catch their breaths, John moves closer to Sherlock, and Sherlock rearranges his blanket to encompass the two of them, looping an arm around John’s shoulders to draw him closer. John smiles into Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Lestrade drawls. “About bloody time.”

“Shut up, Greg,” Sherlock responds immediately, smirking at his correct use of Lestrade’s first name. “And yes, I know my brother know owes you fifty pounds. It was quite obvious you were betting on us.”

“They bet on us?” John asks, but he doesn’t even sound upset. 

“Of course.” Sherlock and Lestrade answer at the same time.

Lestrade hurries off after that, saying something about making sure they close the door when they get home, and John is positive a blush creeps onto Sherlock’s cheeks. 

“I don’t know what we’ll do.” Sherlock repeats. “But I know it’ll be okay if I have you.”

“We’ll make it through together.” John agrees.

And maybe, despite everything, they’re happy.


End file.
